Of Dust and Memories
by cannonmeatball
Summary: I walked towards the most brilliant of the sky lamps, paying no mind the throbbing in my legs and drawing sharp breaths. The wintery winds billowed about my robes and clawed at my skin. Though I walked farther into the endless night, in search of myself; in search of answers.


**Book 1**

**The ****First ****Chapter**

I don't remember anything.

I don't remember how I woke up there, amongst ashes and death. Nor do I remember what to call those brilliant lights that spread across the sky. I don't remember why my clothing was tattered and my skin covered in fresh blood. But even though all my memories eluded me, I knew that I could not stay where I was any longer.

I walked towards the most brilliant of the sky lamps, paying no mind the throbbing in my legs and drawing sharp breaths. The wintery winds billowed about my robes and clawed at my skin. Though I walked farther into the endless night, in search of myself; in search of answers.

"Hello," the foreign words escaped my lips into the night. Bodiless owls and wolves hooted and howled into the dark. "Can anyone hear me?" I bellowed both questions repeatedly, a desperate hope clutching my voice.

"Who's there?" came a distant, croaky voice."Show yourself." "I am in need of assistance."

"Then do as I say and _show_ yourself!" My aide was growing aggravated, and I cannot say that I blame him. Who would delight at the sight of some broken waif?

A few more steps and I saw the back of his balding crown. His greying locks of hair billowed in the wind and goose pimples adorned his sagging neck. "Is that _you_?" he breathed into the air before him. A pregnant pause stood between us.

After careful consideration, I made myself known. "Look behind you," he jumped at the sound of my voice. At his own pace, he turned to face me and a look of terror spread across his furrowed brow. He took several steps back, whimpering as though he had seen a ghoul. Dear, I must be popular.

"Why does sight of me upset you so?" I took several steps towards him, attempting to close the small gap that stood between us.

"Stay away," he warned, his voice barely a whisper, his breath hitching in his throat.

"I mean you no ill, I wish only to speak with you."

"Stay where you are, I'm warning you," the pale skinned plump elderly regained his voice. He pulled a long, curious stick out of his pocket and trained it at my chest. "I'm not defenceless and I told you before, stay where you ARE," a bouquet of golden flames burst from the tip of his stick and engulfed my robes. However, for some unintelligible reason, I was not frightened. The flames encapsulated my feet and were soon absorbed by them. I don't think the old man was expecting that. He dropped his peculiar wonder stick and by instinct, I reached out towards it. The shapeless object flew into my grey palm, my fingers coiled about it and I drew it to my face. I studied it in the little light there was, almost losing note of the meek man before me. I was brought back to my senses by the crackling of the sand as the man began fleeing. I didn't want him to leave yet. I knew he had the answers I so desperately sought, and not yet was I prepared to let him go. I felt as though he owed them to me, my answers.

Words danced on the tip of my tongue and they lifted my arm, pointing the stick towards the running man's back and I shrieked, "Stupefy!"

An emerald light reached for him and upon contact, he froze in midair and fell to the earth. He writhed and groaned, though the light seemed to have paralysed him. I marvelled at the stick, my jaw slack, and a stream of air escaping from my mouth. "What is this?" I took steps towards him, and rested my foot on his back. He seemed incapable of moving his lips. Again words leapt out of my mouth and his speech returned to him with a gasp. "What is this?" I asked once more. "My wand," the words grazed his throat; a hoarse sound that mimicked my voice.

"Wand," I muttered under my breath and stared at its shapeless form. "What does it do, this wand?"

"Magic," he spat. That needed no explanation, I somehow seemed to know exactly what that was. "Why did you run from me? I did say I meant you no ill."

"Only a fool would welcome your company and all the bad luck that runs with it."

"You know me, then?"

"Stop playing games and just kill me!"

"Kill you? You think that I would kill you?" A horrid, breathy cackle burst from his lips. "Why wouldn't you? You're Voldemort!"

**Author's Note**: Hello reader! Thanks for taking a look at the first instalment of my story which also happens to be my very first fanfic. Please leave reviews so that I know what I can improve on and stuff to make this a better experience for you. Hope you enjoyed reading it. If you can, please leave links to your stories so that I can read what my audience is writing. Stay tuned in for the next chapter. Thanks, and have a great day!

-Cannon Meatball

J.K Rowling asserts her moral rights to _Harry Potter_.

All of the characters mentioned within the _Harry Potter _universe are owned by Warner Bros. studios.


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